Carnal Apple, Burning Moon
by abdon-zamudio
Summary: In which Castiel tries to tell Dean Winchester that he's in love with him.
1. Chapter 1

Who is God?

Philosophers, prophets, and people from all corners of the Earth have wondered. Who is God? But a more revealing question is '_why _is God?'

We can all come to an agreement that there's something bigger at work. Who doesn't really matter—but 'why' should keep a person awake at night.

Castiel was a formidable Angel of the Lord. He was a wavelength of celestial intent, intent on completing God's word, following the written word. That is, until he met Dean Winchester.

Castiel wished dearly that he could have had some warning that the Winchester boy would completely, shall we say, fuck him up? Yet here he was, eating a cheeseburger on the rooftop of some god forsaken greasy restaurant/motel establishment wondering 'why God?' as the stars shifted and glittered above him.

He could practically _feel _Dean with his new 'date' rolling about in the hay. Figuratively speaking of course, literally speaking he was having sex with some new girl that he had met. She was very typical of Dean. Short with long luscious brown hair and doe eyes that simpered when met… Castiel cringed at the thought.

"Never be jealous of a fool's paradise," said God, thousands of years previously, "Because that is not paradise at all."

"Thanks dad," said Castiel, taking another bite out of his hamburger, "I really appreciate it."

Castiel knew he was trying his luck with a being as powerful as his father. He was not something to be trifled with and Castiel was joking around. It was all Castiel's tender heart could do in this situation.

He was in love with Dean.

But he didn't know how to tell him.

"Hello Dean," said Castiel out loud, practicing, "Are you religious?"

He sat quietly pretending Dean would answer, "what?" and get that precious confused look on his face.

"Because you're the answer to all my prayers," said Castiel with a sleazy, but somehow adorable smile on his face. He laughed to himself. He did a lot of that these days. Dean seemed to be distancing himself from Castiel.

"Cas where are my favorite blue jeans?" asked Dean as he walked out of the shower with nothing but a towel on that morning. Drops dripped off of his lean abdomen, reflecting Castiel's curious expression on their pallid faces.

"You have a favorite pair?" asked Castiel.

Oh. Favorite. Code for "not dirty from sex" blue jeans. Ah. Another person having sex with Dean that wasn't Castiel. At least, that's what it was in Cas's mind.

"Do you have a map?" asked Castiel out loud to the stars, who appeared to be attentively listening, "Because I'm getting lost in your eyes."

This was getting bad. At this rate he would never admit to Dean how he felt. After all, why did he have to? A "relationship" with Dean was out of the question considering his compulsory heterosexuality.

The parking lot was dirty with spots of oil and grease staining the tar, with many old hamburger wrappers and used condoms for good measure. Castiel felt very safe there, despite this, because it reminded him of his favorite Winchesters. The dirty motels were where everything began on every day. And Bobby's house, when he was alive.

Castiel was by himself at the diner a few nights later reading a magazine's "tips on how to get that guy". They did seem rather ridiculous.

"What're you looking for?" asked his waitress.

"Me?" asked Castiel, "Oh. I want to tell someone that I love them but I don't know how."

"Write it in a letter," she said, "And then run away. And if he doesn't love you back, you can always say it was an imposter."

Castiel thought that was a good idea but he wasn't sure if being so dishonest with Dean afterwards would be a righteous course of action.

So Castiel took out a pen and some paper from the motel:

_Dear Dean,_

What could he possibly say next? He didn't want to write it. He knew what he was _supposed _to write but every cell in his body was screaming "no!" and retracting into itself with the hesitation he was feeling.

_I love you._

The words sat on the page. They appeared awkward on the page, ink heavy and confusing. Three words that could take his life in one fell swoop; I love you. No, he had to say something else. Something more creative, original—how could he profess his love without actually using those words?

Castiel gathered the ingredients for a baked apple pie to make for Dean. It was a bit stupid, but love does that to people. He went and plucked the wheat himself, turning it into soft, pliable dough. He picked the apples from the orchards in Michigan, red delicious—Dean's favorite. Castiel cut the sugar cane until it was refined into perfect little granules, and made sure to add tons of sugar to the recipe. The soft warm butter was from the shaken milk of a young cow in a farm in Iowa.

The pie was warm beside him as he finished his cheeseburger. He tossed out the trash and went in to greet Dean who had probably just finished with… what was her name? Carol? Carrie? Casey?

The door opened and light flooded the sidewalk where Castiel was standing. Dean gazed blankly at him for a moment and then cleared his throat.

"Cas," he said, he looked down, embarrassed as the girl with the brown hair exited. He ruffled his hair a little to make it look less like sex hair. "Sorry that I… you know…"

Castiel nodded and walked in the door, hiding the pie under his arm as he strolled over to the kitchen.

"What are you up to Cas?" asked Dean, "You've been acting… different."

"Oh, nothing," said Castiel, "But I made you a pie."

Dean didn't give the exaltation that Castiel was hoping for, but he did look pleasantly surprised. He conjured a fork and took a bite. His head rolled back and he gave out a moan.

"Cas," said Dean, "This is good stuff. Real good."

After the bliss wore off he turned and peered at Castiel, "Why did you make it though? My birthday isn't until six months."

"I wanted to…" began Castiel, but the words couldn't form.

"Spit it out, Cas," said Dean.

"I wanted to show that I care," said Castiel.

Dean rolled his eyes at the chick flick moment.

"That's all?" he asked.

Castiel nodded.

"Okay," said Dean, "Well thanks for the pie."

That didn't go as planned.


	2. Chapter 2

"This place is creepy," said Sam, "I already want to leave."

"Aw, is Samantha scared?" asked Dean.

"You know you've been a real ass lately Dean-

"Shut up," said Dean, frowning and turning into a public library.

"What are we here for, Dean?" asked Castiel politely.

Dean glared at him. "What do you think we're here for? A garden party?"

Castiel gave him a withering expression. The place was creepy. It was just after midnight when Dean pulled into another dirty motel, and everything was darkened. Not just a normal night dark, it was as if another cloak of night had been thrust over the entirety of the city.

"Dean what has your problem been lately?" asked Castiel.

Dean didn't respond, he just walked in to get a key to the bed room.

"So what's been happening around here?" asked Dean to the woman at the counter.

"Oh you mean the darkness?" she asked, and when Dean nodded she said, "It's been like this since winter started. The nights got longer and eventually the day turned into the night."

"And there's people missing?"

"Seven women," she said, "None of them are even remotely alike either."

Castiel resumed his place standing in a corner when they arrived in their room. Before Dean went to sleep he did look up Castiel wistfully and said "I'm sorry, Cas."

Castiel smiled at him warmly, "it's okay Dean. Sleep well."

Sam gave Castiel a worried expression, but he didn't add anything to his previous conversation with Castiel a few nights ago.

Castiel went outside to watch sit out in the dreamless, dark night. He sat on a fold-up chair sitting right outside the room. He watched the occasional car whoosh by and to the owls hooting mournfully. Without warning, a black smoke covered his entire body, enveloping him. His nerves were set on fire, he could feel _everything. _A hissing sound passed him and went through his body. "Dean," he mumbled, "Sam?"

A pair of dark eyes were visible above him. They blinked owlishly.

"Happy holidays, Castiel," said a woman's voice.

"Who are you?" asked Castiel blearily. Everything was moving so slowly he couldn't figure out what was happening.

"Would you believe me if I said the Ghost of Christmas Past?" she asked, a little sarcastically, "Of course I'm not telling you who I am—you should know me. We did have 'a thing' didn't we, Castiel?"

"Cas," said Dean when he woke up. He expected a response. There was none. "Hey, Cas?"

Castiel was nowhere to be found.

"Sam?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," said Sam, his voice muffled through his pillows.

"Have you seen Cas?"

"Nope," said Sam, rolling over, "Why? Is he gone?"

"Oh no," said Dean, putting his head in his hands, "It was probably because I was a douche yesterday."

"Yeah you were," said Sam, "But since he's so in love with you I don't think he would just leave like that. It's not like you're worse any other day."

Dean glared at Sam, "'In love with me'," said Dean, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "We should go ask around, see what this eternal night is doing here in Oxford."

Dean unrolled a newspaper and scanned over to find the section where Jennifer Barnes was missing. Jennifer Barnes was an undergraduate student at Meadowbrook College studying to be a kindergarten teacher. Her most prominent feature was her pouting lips whose glimmer was visible even through the news paper's black and white.

"Let's go talk to Mrs. Barnes," said Dean.

Jennifer Barnes mother was a woman slight of frame, with large blue eyes nothing like her daughter's beady, scrutinizing glare. She had a warm expression on her face, and lips that always looked ready to laugh.

"What can I help you boys with?"

Dean surveyed the house. It looked normal. There were three white leather couches in the sitting room all facing toward a picture of an unfinished painting of a woman with black hair. Freshly cut flowers sat on a glass coffee table begging to be looked at, they were pretty poppies and pink magnolias. Which was a little odd because those flowers weren't in season. Or even from the part of the country they were in—except the magnolias.

"We just wanted to ask a few question about Jennifer Barnes," said Dean, and Sam nodded next to him.

"Anything you like," she said, but she looked wistful and sad at the mention of her daughter, "But I thought the police had already come and investigated?"

"We're federal," said Sam quickly.

"Oh," she said, and she didn't interrogate further, "So what would you like to know?"

"Was Jennifer acting normal the day she went missing?" asked Sam.

"It's funny you should ask that," said Mrs. Barnes, tucking a strand of her glossy brown hair behind her ear, "But no, she wasn't acting normal. She wasn't acting extremely peculiar except she was painting this picture," she said, pointing at the picture. The woman on the painting was darkly beautiful, her black eyes penetrating the observer.

"And she wouldn't tell me anything about it," said Mrs. Barnes, "The other police didn't really listen about this because they didn't think it strange. But Jennifer is a great artist—

And Mrs. Barnes was right. Jennifer was like a young female Rembrandt.

"She's always dying to tell me about her paintings, come you can see the other one's over here," said Mrs. Barnes, trotting over to the kitchen where there where huge finished paintings sitting all around. The most striking one to Dean was a picture of a jester dancing in a King's court. "She wouldn't tell me about this one."

"Does she have any friends?" asked Dean.

"No, not really," said Mrs. Barnes, "She got along with me and small children. That's why she's going to be a kindergarten teacher—an art teacher specifically."

Sam looked closely at the picture. The woman was holding a scepter in her hands. She didn't look foreboding, or angry, she looked confident.

"What do you think about all this night?" asked Sam.

"Maybe it's a sign from God," she said, laughing, "Maybe we're not supposed to be here."

Dean cast a sideways glance at Sam, who frowned. This was no work of God, thought Dean. This was the work of an angry woman. Or angry women. Dean looked out the window to see that rain was now falling. He wondered where Cas was, and what he was thinking. He wished Castiel would come back.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so glad people are reading this, but I was honestly surprised- I was just writing for fun! Hopefully my writing will get better throughout so I'm very sorry for the quality. But I'm so happy anyone's here, thank you so much!**

* * *

"_Nyx?" _asked Castiel.

"Your observation skills are impeccable, little Castiel," said the woman simpering sarcastically, putting a comb through her long velvety hair, "It's a shame we couldn't have stayed together you know."

"We never had 'a thing'," said Castiel, with an indignant tone, "You were convinced that I was in love with you and I vaguely liked you."

"We all know that's not true," said Nyx, smiling toothily. Her teeth were large and white with a gap through the middle of the top row. It suited her, however. It seemed regal and more French than trashy and uncouth.

She wasn't overtly pretty, but she had a soft glamour about her that demanded attention. Her eyes were a dark, watching Castiel closely for signs of any attempt at escaping. Castiel felt that she was playing the "misunderstood" card right now, because while she wasn't being wholly cruel, she _had _captured Castiel for some reason and it wasn't a good one. No reason could be good enough for Castiel, unless it had to do with saving Dean. Then he might bend.

"What are you trying to do?" asked Castiel thinly.

"Now, now," said Nyx, "I couldn't possibly tell you that. It would ruin all the fun for me—especially when I win. And the fight is finally over."

"Who are you-?

But the answer presented itself in a muffled groan.

Castiel assumed that he was in a basement. It was decorated with all sorts of sigils designed to protect the owner, probably. The basement smelled sentimental, like old family albums and coffee. Maybe a little bit of smoke. A bright phosphorescent light shined on Castiel's forehead making him distinctly uncomfortable—and the man lying on the bed near where he was tied up. He was groaning incoherently.

The man had a light emitting from him. A soft, golden glow coming from every pore of his body—and when he opened his eyes to look over at Castiel they were a warm amber color that incubated the heart of the person looking into them.

"No… you couldn't possibly," said Castiel, genuinely surprised, "I must say, I actually am impressed."

Nyx rolled her eyes. She was concentrating on taking a golden orb and shrinking it. Her dark lashes fell on her cheeks as her eyes narrowed at the orb.

"Apollo," said Castiel, "How did you do it?"

He hoped that she would be arrogant enough to want to tell so that he would be able to undo the destruction she could possibly cause with the power of Apollo. She continued to ignore his question in favor of placing the golden ring in a small wooden box. The golden glow of Apollo seemed to have dissipated.

"She kidnapped me," said Apollo indignantly. He didn't even glare at Nyx, his mouth was open; slack, and he was wriggling to try to get out of his binds.

Nyx rolled her eyes again, "It wasn't some clever scheme, Castiel," said Nyx, "I am realistic, you know. I used the fact that Apollo is so stupid as to think that he cannot be defeated simply because he's the god of the sun—

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"All you do is party about up on Olympus, playing games all day as if you'll be doing that for eternity."

"Well, yes," said Apollo placidly, "That is the point."

"I'm very tired of your dominion over Earth anyway, and I'm sure there's plenty of people that never liked the day anyway."

"Humans are not nocturnal," said Castiel, taking a mental note and realizing her plan was probably to turn the day into night for eternity. Gods did like to do things like that, "Who were those women you kidnapped? Where are they?"

"She wants to marry me," said Apollo in a helpless tone, "It's a specific bond. Once she marries me, she'll be entirely in control of the day and night. And she'll keep it night for a very long time. Indefinitely, I assume."

Castiel sighed. Finding himself in these predicaments was extremely unpleasant, not to mention time consuming. He wondered what Dean was doing.

"What do you need to complete this?" asked Castiel.

"I'm not telling you," said Nyx, "With my luck, you'll escape and tell your boyfriend about what I'm doing. That simply wouldn't do Castiel."

"Well why did you capture me?" asked Castiel, relentless.

Nyx was currently tying the knots on Apollo's wrists tighter, "Bait," she said, simply.

* * *

Dean stuffed a hefty hamburger into his mouth, and swallowed with a coke.

"You're going to get a heart attack before you're forty," said Sam flatly, watching with undisguised disgust as Dean salted his chili cheese fries.

"What a wonderful way to die then," said Dean, "A tasty death. And you know, this is Death's favorite kind of food."

"We would know," said Sam, sighing.

They sat in silence for a minute, until Sam broke it with the beginning of a heart to heart.

"Dean—

"If this is going to be—

"Dean, you have to listen to me," said Sam, "Do you or do you not have feelings for Castiel?"

Dean chewed contemplatively. But then he nodded, albeit slowly—but nodding all the same. He remained silent, but didn't look at Sam.

"I don't think any differently of you," said Sam, lowering his voice, "I think it's great, actually. You've never really had any meaningful relationships outside of me."

"Thanks Sammy," said Dean, his tone sarcastic but his expression soft, "But what am I supposed to do about it?"

"What do you mean?" asked Sam, snorting, "It's obvious."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"Sorry," said Sam, "I guess it's obvious to me. He really cares about you. A lot. I mean more than it's even comprehensible to care about someone. He's the kind of person that would actually walk a thousand miles to see you—likely more."

Dean gave Sam a strange expression. Dean found it in himself that sadly, he would probably walk one thousand miles for his Cas too without a second thought about it. It was just his nature at this point, not even a debate.

"So Jennifer's apartment is downtown?" asked Sam. He changed the subject a little too abruptly for Dean, but Dean followed suit anyway.

"Yeah," said Dean, "We'd better go. Cas?"

There was no response.

"Cas?" asked Dean, a little more persistent, "Cas, I'm sorry, can you come back?"

Dean shook his head, but Sam interjected, "Dean I think something's wrong. Cas wouldn't take this long to get back to you."

"Ah, think Dean, think," said Dean, rubbing his temples, "What could possibly be causing the night?"

And then a light bulb went on, "Night of course. We have to summon her," said Dean firmly, leaving a tip at the diner.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey all, sorry for the delay, I've been really tired lately so it's taking me some time :)**

* * *

Apollo appeared listless lying on the bed, even though Nyx had taken off his bondages because he "wouldn't be able to escape anyway". He glanced over at Castiel occasionally as if looking for an accomplice, but Castiel wasn't sure how he was going to get away—or what Nyx was trying to do.

Nyx was an ancient deity. She was the Greek goddess of the night. Nyx's main courtesan was Aether, but apparently Aether wasn't swarthy enough for her so she had to aim higher on the luminosity scale, Apollo. Apollo was very powerful, but Nyx was his weakness.

"Why does she want day to turn into night?" asked Castiel, with a softness in his voice to Apollo.

"What?" asked Apollo, looking up with abruptness, "Oh," he cleared his throat, "It's supposed to make her more powerful. But she has—

"What are you two talking about?" asked Nyx sweetly, "Apollo revealing my plans? Silly boy, don't do that—thinking is for girls!"

"Where are the seven girls?" asked Castiel.

"Around the corner," said Nyx, "I gave them more luxurious lodgings considering they came along out of their own will. You, however, won't be as lucky."

"Why?" asked Castiel.

"Because I'm going to cast a spell on you," said Nyx, "And you will be Dean's 'bitch' no more, you will be mine. That'll be a nice change."

Castiel couldn't answer, but instead gazed at Nyx with an adoring expression that he was inwardly trying to pull away. Castiel felt a surge of panic rising through his body. He was still conscious though, that was good. But it was difficult to control his emotions. Nyx smiled haughtily, not realizing that Castiel still wasn't completely enveloped in the spell.

"Nyx, I will not play this game," said Castiel, struggling, but pushing past her spell, "Stop it."

"No," said Nyx, "I won't play this game."

She picked up a lantern, and slammed it on his face rendering him unconscious. Nyx wasn't precisely sure why should would do that considering she had the ability to wield magic far greater than Castiel's with the addition of being able to reduce anyone to a babbling mess or unconscious within moments.

* * *

Nyx dragged Castiel's body into the middle of the room. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and then walked upstairs to a nice living room where there were two women, sitting and chatting over iced lemonade. Jennifer was in the middle, animatedly recounting a story about a pet bird named Tracy she had in the third grade.

"Jennifer," said Nyx quietly, "When you're done storytelling, why don't you come downstairs and help me with poor little Castiel?"

"Sure, Ena," said Jennifer. She called Nyx "Ena" as a moniker for the "N" in her name.

Jennifer continued her story, but kept a close eye on Nyx who was lurking in the corners of the living room, obviously up to something. The girls on the couch had voluntarily gone with Nyx to watch the ceremony. Nyx was very proud of her ability to persuade the girls to come. Jennifer was supposed to share Nyx's power—but Nyx would simply wait until the ceremony was over and then kill Jennifer.

Nyx went to the basement and sat in a reclining chair next to Apollo who was sweating profusely. She glared at him.

"What turned you so bitter?" asked Apollo.

"What turned me?" asked Nyx. She scoffed, looking affronted, "What turned me bitter? You answer that for yourself Apollo. I'm not here to have you pick through my mind. You're my hostage not the other way around."

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Marry you," said Nyx, and she smiled semi-warmly.

"Marry me?" asked Apollo, "If you just wanted to be loved—

"Oh I don't just want love," said Nyx, "I want much more than love now, and you have everything I need. But just not on your terms."

"I…" began Apollo. His wide, innocent blue eyes were imploring as they gazed into Nyx's. She smiled coldy.

* * *

"Dea noctis, quaesumus. Et ostende faciem tuam, et humiliare sub crepusculum matutinum hora in pace," Dean chanted over heated ashes of the dead and various incense including frankincense.

"Did you say that right?" asked Sam after a long silence.

"The underwear model brothers strike again," said Nyx, "Does anyone ever question why the FBI looks that attractive?"

"Cut it out," said Sam, giving her his best bitch face.

Nyx rolled her eyes, "I'm assuming the brawny one wants to know why I stole his boyfriend?"

Dean clenched up, "You took Cas?"

"Cas," said Nyx, "Yes, Cas."

"How did you-?"

"You're all he thinks about," said Nyx in a low voice, right in Dean's ear. She quickly scampered over to Sam's side, "What does Jolly Green care to know? Whatever happened to the pretty Jennifer Barnes? She wouldn't make a good mix with you Sam, she's far more adventurous."

"What do you know about me?" asked Sam, indignantly.

"Anything I want to know," said Nyx, "I have Castiel."

"What did you do to him?" asked Dean, puffing up.

"Oh he's alive and… well," said Nyx, "You don't need to worry about him. Well, you do… but there's nothing you—

"Don't you dare," said Dean, "Don't you dare lay another finger on him—

"What are you trying to do?" asked Sam, trying to keep the scene calm.

"Think Sammy," said Nyx, "Think."

Nyx was obviously trying to flaunt her beauty in some absurd way, but it wasn't going very far with Dean who was fuming. Nyx reveled in her ability to make men angry, and Dean's hypermasculinity proved easy to poke at.

"You're the goddess of the night," said Sam.

"Yes," said Nyx, "You have quite the talent for stating the obvious, Sam."

"So you're old," said Sam, "And dark deities have often been cast aside so you want to bring yourself back up again."

"Yes," said Nyx, "Good good, go on. What does this have to do with precious Castiel?"

"Bait?"

"And?"

"Oh no," said Sam, "You have some history with him."

"What is that word they use?" asked Nyx, "Bingo."

"What have you done with him?" asked Dean, raising his voice, "Tell me, now!"

"So you want to be in control of the night and day," said Sam, "How would you do that? Conquering the sun?"

"Marrying him," said Nyx cheerfully.


End file.
